


Silent Prayers

by firefly124



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, offscreen Saileen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 07:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17137181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: With the bunker to themselves, Dean and Castiel take tentative steps towards each other.





	Silent Prayers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmandaCanzo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaCanzo/gifts).



> Happy holidays, AmandaCanzo! I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it!
> 
> Huge thanks to MaggieMaybe160 for beta reading and help with the title. Any lingering errors are entirely my fault.

As Cas waited for the water to boil, he remembered how he had enjoyed hot chocolate when he’d been human. He definitely understood why humans found it a comforting beverage in cold weather. He wondered if he should’ve tried being a barista in that time. Then he would know how to use the whipped cream to add an artistic touch to the drink. Of course, he couldn’t be certain if Dean would appreciate that or laugh it off as something unnecessary and frivolous. Though he certainly enjoyed plenty of frivolous things when no one was looking, so perhaps there was not really indicative of his appreciation or lack thereof.

Once he’d poured the water, stirred in the powdered mix, and topped it off with a generous glob of whipped cream without getting it anywhere—nobody was supposed to remember the Whipped Cream Can Incident—he brought the mug out to the war room where Dean sat poring over a lore book. He looked up when Cas set the mug down in front of him.

“Hot chocolate, huh?” Dean wrapped his hands around the mug. “What’s the occasion?”

“You were cold,” Cas said. He gave a shrug that was intended to be nonchalant but probably looked as stiff as it felt. “It seemed the appropriate response.”

A look passed over Dean’s face briefly. Disappointment? Confusion? It was, as always, too difficult to read, even for an entity that spoke every language in Creation.

“Thanks,” Dean said at last. He took a careful sip and smiled. That look, Cas was sure of. Contentment.

Cas allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Mission accomplished. For now.

***

The rest of the evening passed quietly. It was rare for them to have the bunker to themselves these days. Cas was grateful to Jody for having offered the use of her cabin to Sam and Eileen for the weekend. It had been bittersweet watching their relationship bloom over the last few months. Cas was happy for them, of course. But he was jealous, too, no matter how hard he tried to smother that unworthy emotion.

Dean yawned and stretched. “Time to hit the hay.”

Cas looked up at him and nodded. “Good night, Dean.”

“What, you’re gonna stay up all night?”

“I don’t sleep, Dean. You know that.” It was bizarre how, after so many years, this concept seemed to elude Dean.

“I know.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “I guess it just seems different leaving you on your own with nobody else here.”

Cas hadn’t known grace could wince, however, that was the only way he could think of to describe what he had just felt. Every lie, every trick he’d pulled over the past years came instantly to mind. Of course Dean wouldn’t trust him. Nor should he.

“What’s that look for?” Dean asked. “I’m just saying it’s gotta be boring as hell knocking around here when the only other person here is asleep.”

“You have made it clear you find it ‘creepy’ if I keep watch over you,” Cas replied. He didn’t bother to point out that, the occasional nightmare or midnight snack aside, even when Sam and Eileen were here, or anyone else for that matter, they all tended to sleep at roughly the same time. There was little difference between being the only entity of two who was awake or the only entity of more than two.

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Dean shook his head. “Night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.” Cas turned the page in his book. It was woefully inaccurate, but perhaps if he annotated it sufficiently, it would help rather than confuse future hunters. There was, at least, some hope of that.

***

This hadn’t been exactly how Dean had expected this weekend to play out. Not that he’d had a plan exactly. But when Jody had managed to work into a conversation that Sam and Eileen should really go spend a weekend up in her cabin, Dean’s entire spine had lit up like a Fourth of July sparkler for some reason.

What even had that conversation with Cas been? First he looked hurt, then annoyed, then bored. And what had Dean hoped to accomplish anyway? He might finally be coming to terms with the fact he loved Cas as something other than a brother, but that didn’t mean Cas would suddenly feel the same thing. He was a freakin’ angel. They didn’t mix with lowly humans. Hell, a century or so ago, Cas had been part of a squad sent to execute an angel who supposedly had.

That meant it was completely ridiculous for Dean to be sleeping firmly on one half of his bed—which was barely large enough to even _have_ halves—covers pulled up, staring at the ceiling, wishing desperately that the other side wasn’t empty. It was his own fault, really, for giving Cas shit about “watching over him” when he slept. Thing was, he couldn’t regret that. It _was_ creepy to have somebody sitting or standing there watching him sleep. What would be not-at-all-creepy would be if Cas did that watching-over thing from right here next to him.

A knock sounded at the door.

Dean rolled his eyes and sat up. “C’mon in, Cas. What is it?”

“You tell me,” Cas replied. “You prayed to me.”

“What?” Dean scrunched his forehead up. “No I didn’t.”

“Perhaps not in so many words, but… Dean, you have to realize that directing your thoughts at me, particularly thoughts filled with such… longing... is effectively no different than praying.”

“It is?” Dean wanted to shrink and disappear under the covers. Under the bed. Under the bunker. If he’d given the matter any thought, he’d have assumed that the people he’d seen silently praying in churches or whatever were just playing even worse odds than if they’d prayed loud enough to be heard. “You saying that humans can broadcast to angel radio without opening their mouths?”

“Of course.”

“Of course,” Dean repeated, dumfounded.

“What I need to know,” Cas said, “is if, since we are the only two here, and there is no concern about explaining ourselves to anyone, you wish for me to answer that prayer or to continue to pretend not to hear it.”

Dean swallowed hard, then flipped down the covers on the empty side of the bed. He could feel heat climbing up his neck and into his face.

Cas took off his trench coat and suit jacket and folded them over the chair in the corner. Dean tried to pull his eyes away. He really did. But this was all so surreal that he couldn’t. He was half afraid to blink in case this all turned out to be a dream. Cas slid out of his shoes and then eased in between the sheets.

It took a few minutes of awkward shuffling before Dean finally gave up all hope of retaining even a shred of his dignity. He had no idea if anything like this would ever happen again, so he decided to get over himself. When they finally settled in, Cas was curled up against Dean’s back, an arm around his belly.

“Sleep well, Dean,” Cas said softly. “I’ll watch over you.”

Dean got the best rest he’d had in years that night.


End file.
